The night passed by uneventfully.
Except for the ghouls relentlessly knocking on doors and windows, and calling out to them in an eerily polite tone, nothing else happened.
No one slept, however. Least of all the three newcomers.
Michael sat on the floor in the corner of the living room, head hung low. He couldn't believe that people had been trapped in this place for over fifteen hundred years.
It was a ridiculous concept to him.
Thinking that he'd have to spend his day here till the end of his lifespan had dealt a critical blow to his mind.
If these people here hadn't found a way to leave this place for over fifteen hundred years, then what chance did he have?
Genevieve's thoughts were more or less the same.
She was terribly downcast. She had such grand aspirations, and to think she'd never leave this accursed secret plane made her emotional.
Adam was the only person who remained unfazed.
